CARYL - Daryl and Carol finally together!
by Uta Burke
Summary: After Daryl returns to Rick's group with Merle, Carol stops by his prison cell to say she's glad he's back. Daryl wants her to stay...


The light falls on Daryl in a special way, illuminating him. He sits on the cot cleaning his crossbow, leaning against the bunk bed's post and looking up when he notices Carol standing in the door. The prison is quiet, as most folks have turned in for the night. He beckons Carol to come in, then scoots over to make room for her on the bed. She sits down beside him, in the spot he just vacated. They talk about what happened since he left and what it was like out there, with just him and his brother. Daryl tells her how they helped out a family stuck on a bridge overrun with Walkers.

"I heard a baby crying. Merle thought it was a deer or some other animal." Daryl let out a little laugh. "Guess I'm still the better hunter."

"And what did you do?" Carol asked gently.

"Got rid of the Walkers, sent the family on their way. Merle was mad at me for risking our lives for someone we didn't even know. But there was a little kid involved, so…" Daryl's voice trailed off.

After a few moments, Carol says, "You're a good man, Daryl. I wish you could see that."

He lets out an embarrassed laugh. "I'm not as good as you think I am. Don't let yourself be fooled. You're too smart for that."

She gives him a look that says she is not convinced. "What is the worst thing you have ever done so far?"

He doesn't answer.

Carol doesn't push him. She knows he is not avoiding the question, just needs to reflect on it some.

"I guess… I guess everything I ever did was at some point bad. I can't think of a specific example."

"Did you rape someone? Kill? Hurt an animal for no reason, just to see it suffer?" she probes.

"No. Nothing like that. Just, you know, get wasted and high, and did stupid stuff."

"Yeah, but like what? There is a difference between being evil and acting stupid. What are you the most ashamed of?"

He again takes his time to answer.

Again, she gave him time and lay with her back on the mattress, staring at the cot above her. Daryl reclined as well. It felt good lying next to each other, talking.

"I… I punched my old man in the face. Like really punched him. He was beatin' up on the old lady and I wanted to kill him."

"What did he do?"

"You mean, when he regained consciousness?" Daryl let out a short laugh. "He just hit me, and I kept punching him. I felt sick to my stomach. He's my father, but still. We hated him. Then Merle walked in while we were in the middle of a fist fight and just grabbed him away from me and threw him into a corner, like a garbage bag. It was actually kind of funny." Daryl laughed again, but quickly stopped, thinking about how sick that must sound. "He pretty much left us alone after that, so I guess it was the right thing to do. Sick, ain't it? He turns to look at Carol, expecting her to agree.

She shakes her head, marveling. "That's the worst thing you can think of? Oh, Daryl." She reaches for his hand, expecting fully that he would pull back immediately, but still felt the need to do so. He left his hand in hers. Carol is barely breathing. This must be the most intimate moment he ever shared with anyone in the group. She turns her head toward him and gazes at his silhouette. He barely breathes, too, and he reminds her of a hurt little boy. All he ever wanted was to be loved but got his heart trampled on so many times he must have given up on ever finding it. His dad hated him, his mother couldn't protect him, his brother had his own demons to deal with. Daryl probably thought love was just make-belief, something you saw in the movies.

"Merle grabbed his throat and told him if he ever laid hands on me or Ma again, he would kill him and make it look like his drunken ass stumbled into a bear trap. The old man left soon after that. It made things a bit easier for us. It took Merle's brutal coldness to get rid of this sonofabitch. I think Pa would have killed me for hitting him. That's the difference between my brother and me. He gets results. I get the ass-kickin'." Daryl finally looked at her. "Fucked up, ain't it?"

Carol gives his hand a little squeeze. "No, it's not. It's just sad. Merle knows, as the big brother, it's his job to protect you. Which he did, and which makes him less of an asshole. He does have something good in him after all. He just doesn't get many chances to use it."

"You really think so? I know nobody likes him, but… you think he's all right? In his own way, I mean."

Carol nodded. "He's loyal. That's a good way to be. He's afraid to show it, probably because he thinks it's a weakness, so he hides it behind his cussing and being nasty. But he would kill for you. I never had someone like that in my life. Accept him for the little bit of goodness you know is there. He's not all bad."

Daryl acknowledges what she is saying by squeezing her hand with gratitude. "I once watched him ushering a turtle to the other side of the road, so it wouldn't get run over. He didn't know I saw it. He actually gave it a little pad on its ass and it scuttled faster. It was funny. That's how I know he's more bark than bite." Daryl reflects. "Damn, Merle. What a nut." It sounds admiring. "This is embarrassing, but… he used to change my diapers, 'cause nobody else would. I guess it bonds you."

They were still holding on to each other, very lightly, but still. Carol did not want to ruin the moment by turning this into something romantic or for Daryl to pull away. "Wanna know what the worst thing _I_ ever did was?"

She had his full attention.

"I tried to kill Ed. Like, really kill him. With arsenic. But I must not have used enough because he only got sick, nothing serious. I wanted to try it again, using more the next time, but then," she hesitated, "all this happened." Carol sighs loudly and looks Daryl straight in the eyes. "That makes me a worse person than you. And you know why I wanted him dead? Not just for the beatings and the belittling. I wished him dead because Ed didn't let me be the woman I am. Does that make sense?"

She felt him nod in the dark. "And what woman is that?" He sounded gentle, caring.

"You know, independent, giving, caring, doing my own thing without whining or nagging, just a generally good person. But I had to push it all aside, to fight him for the most basic things. It turned me into a lonely, bitter bitch. I just needed to protect my sanity." Carol lets out a little sob.

Daryl rolls over on his side, facing her. The movement accidentally made Carol's hand brush across his groin. Stunned, she pulls back. Seconds later, Daryl shyly reaches for it and guides it back, his hand resting on top of hers, while pressing his groin against her touch. Then again. He slowly builds up to a rhythm, Carol meeting his movements. Under no circumstances does she want him to pull away and end it. She is waiting to see what he will do next. He is so vulnerable right now that she barely dares breathing.

He seems to wait for her cue to proceed. Carol very slowly slips her hand under the top of his pants. She does not have to go far. His penis stands fully erect, poking out of his pants. She touches it shyly, still expecting him to jump up and run for his life at any moment. Daryl let out a gasp, then a moan when she uses a fingernail to brush over its satiny smooth, already wet with pre-cum, tip. He moves closer instead of pulling away and hauling his ass out of there like a jack rabbit. Daryl not only stays, but indicates he wants more closeness! Carol is almost dizzy with happiness. The wild, jittery, traumatized, shy, love-starved, insecure man they grew to know and admire, let her touch him on his most private part. Carol feels as if the universe has given her access to the Wonders of the World, or at least a rare glimpse into the behavior of a mysterious species. Why has he chosen her? She, who longed for nothing more at this time in her life than a kind but genuine gesture, the way she knew in her heart she deserves it, after the hell Ed had put her through. By holding his breath, Daryl indicates that he wants her to move on to the next step, and she obliges by grabbing hold of his manhood, stunned by its size. It grows bigger and harder in her grip.

Daryl presses his loins closer to Carol, moving against her. She stays dressed because she wants to take it that slowly. She pleasures him with her hand until he cums, letting the sensation rush through him and out, into his red rag he pulls from his pocket just in time. Daryl gasps heavily until he regains his breath, then pulls Carol into his arms and nuzzles his head against her neck. She feels his heart pounding through his chest, still expecting him to bolt and hide in the woods for days, embarrassed by his vulnerability and moment of weakness. But he stays in her embrace and they cling to each other like shipwrecked people to a life raft.

Rick passes the cell on his nightly round. He raps his baton against the bars, unaware that Daryl is not alone. He stops when he hears shuffling and other commotion.

"Hey, buddy, you all right?" he shouts to Daryl.

"Uh, yeah, I'm… I'm not alone, Rick. Carol is here. We're just, uh, talking."

A grin spreads across Rick's face. He could have shouted with joy at the news of Daryl having a woman in his room. "Just making the rounds, guys. Don't let me interrupt you." He resolves to send the two of them on a special mission together in the morning.

Carol giggles hysterically. "Can you imagine? At least we're dressed."

"Can't even have privacy in a damn prison cell," Daryl says but laughs, too. He turns serious. "So, what d'you wanna do?" he asks shyly.

"About what?"

He gestures around them. "About this. Us. You didn't get anything out of it." God, he can feel his face burning with embarrassment. He has never been comfortable addressing his feelings, but here they both were, interrupted by Rick, and Daryl feels he has to conclude the evening somehow or the unfinished business would forever hang over their heads. Whenever they would run into each other, it would feel awkward.

Carol, grateful for the little intimacy that already transpired between them and how vulnerable he had been, didn't want to press the issue. The moment had passed and for now she could just be happy and cherish what they had. She leans against the back wall while Daryl sits next to her, but at the edge of the cot. She reaches out to touch his back. He must be flinching because she can feel a tiny tremor rippling through his tense muscles. She tries to sound as easy-going as possible. "Don't worry about me. I'm just glad you came back to us." Right away she realizes this might be a problem for him, having let his guard down and allowing her access to his feelings. Without her having a turn at intimacy, leveling with him, so to speak, he might feel even more embarrassed than usual, so she quickly adds, "Next time, okay, Pookie?"

Daryl turns sideways, glancing at her. "Okay. Uh,I missed you, too. All of you."

Carol senses his bashfulness and scoots off the bed. "See you tomorrow." She gets up and kisses Daryl on top of his head.

Her legs almost buckle when she feels a slight tug on her sleeve. Daryl is holding her back! She hesitates and lingers, heart pounding wildly, barely daring to breathe.

He pulls her on to his lap and looks directly into her eyes. "I missed you."

And then, finally, slowly, he leans in and kisses her, ever so gently, and then urgently, just as she had been wishing and hoping for months.

Daryl knows Rick won't come back, but he gets up to lock the door and hang a blanket over the bars. It doesn't cover everything but still sends the message that he wants privacy, just in case Merle decides to stop by for a midnight visit because he's bored or can't sleep.

Carol waits for him by the cot. She unbuttons her blouse and slips it off her shoulders, fully aware this is going to happen tonight. Obviously, it isn't her first time, but emotionally it feels as if it were. Making love to Daryl Dixon just sounds unreal, like taming a tiger and coming to grips that the wild animal trusts and accepts you. She dreamt about it, but never allowed herself to hope of ever getting that close to him. Carol has no idea what to expect. Maybe it will just be a quick romp in the sack to get it over with, but somehow she doubts it. She leans against the bed post and awaits what happens next.

Daryl approaches without hesitation and draws her into his arms. They kiss again, hungrily, while pulling on each others' clothes. It feels so right, so overdue, and holding back for so long has brought out the essence of their feelings which now erupt through the surface in a torrent of desire. They stumble on the bed, he on top, both still half dressed, already grinding and moaning. He wiggles to pull down his pants and Carol gets a glimpse of his underwear. He wears exactly what she expected: Brown military-issued boxer shorts made of thin cloth. Carol is surprised how glad this makes her feel. She could not imagine him wearing fancy skivvies or whitie tighties which would have turned a drab gray color by now for sure.

He pulls down the boxers and suddenly seems nervous. He probably worries what she expects from him and if what he is able to give will be enough.

Carol hurries to take off the rest of her clothes. She smells his musky, earthy scent and inhales deeply, pulling him closer to her. His hot, throbbing penis presses against her belly and Carol opens her legs to welcome him. Daryl enters her with one stroke and both gasp with anticipation and lust. Carol wishes time would stand still. To have him so close and all to herself topped everything she ever wished for. The ultimate reward, from a man who was badass but kind, tough yet vulnerable, distant and scared, and so desperate for love it nearly broke her heart.

Damaged people like her and him had long given up on having even their most basic needs met because their hopes had been dashed so many times that all they often had left was distrust, and yet, for some miraculous reason, he not only came back to the group, but allowed her entrance into his innermost being.

They pause briefly to take in the sensation before he slowly pulls out and enters again, and she answers by meeting his thrusts in a building rhythm from which there is no return until they both find relief. Carol clings to him, pressing down on his shoulders as he slams his loins into her. Their scents mix into a heady perfume which fill the prison cell.

Daryl rises up as he increases the pace, getting ready for his release but so is she, and he can feel her walls contracting around his immense pole as both erupt within moments of each other. He collapses in a heap on top of her but braces his arms on each side to buffer his weight. They gaze at each other in stunned amazement.

It takes a while for their breathing to slow and he bends down to kiss her, their glistening bodies heaving with exhaustion as they cool down. Only then does Daryl pull out and Carol immediately feels bereft. She doesn't want it to end. He had been all hers, and hers alone. Now she feels abandoned.

Daryl must be having the same thoughts because he immediately pulls her into an embrace as if he wants to hold on to the moment forever. He gently brushes her cheek, drinking in her love. He is afraid to call it that, but has no clue what else it could be. He just knows he wants it to be love.

"Hey, Daryl, you up?"

Merle.

Not sure how to answer, Daryl looks at Carol for instructions. She shrugs and says, "Up to you."

"Uh, I'm really tired. Can it wait 'til tomorrow?" Daryl shouts out to his brother.

Merle holds on to the prison bars trying to peek in. "Since when do you cover up? Got somebody in there with you, lil brother?"

Daryl hesitates too long. "Nah, I'm just real tired, all right? We'll talk tomorrow. I'm not dressed."

Merle chuckles. "Ah, I see. Loverboy got himself a rendezvous. I'll be damned. Well, don't let me interrupt anything. Nighty night."

Daryl shouts after him. "I do _not_ have a rendevous. I said I'm tired."

Merle shuffles away, singing "_Easy Lover."_

"Would it be bad if he knows we are spending the night together?" Carol whispers.

"No, but you know how he is. He would probably say something stupid and you be mad and run out of here."

"Of course I would. Naked as a jaybird."

They laugh.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Daryl grunts. "D'you want to?"

"Not really, but I don't want to overstay my visit."

Both of them were craving intimacy, but both were scared the other would want to be alone now and too shy to speak up.

"Up to you. And if you wanna keep it secret, I understand," he says.

Carol propped herself up and looked at him. "You understand? Daryl, do you think I am embarrassed of being seen with you?"

"Hm. Why wouldn't you? I'm just a backwoods redneck low-life."

"Oh my God. Please don't say that. Why do you feel this way? You have no idea how important you are to the group. How special you are. Don't you know we adore you? How much _I_ adore you?" She closes her eyes, pressing her head against his chin.

Daryl folds her into a tight embrace and holds on to her. She feels his hot tears wet her brow and she buries her face under his chin. He trembles, crying silently. She doesn't speak or react, knowing instinctively sometimes doing nothing was best. She wonders if he ever heard a kind word in his life.

When she feels him calm down, she says, "If you don't jump out of your skin, I'll even throw in the "L" word. Love, I mean." She says it quicker than planned when she realizes what else it stood for. Heaven forbid he would think she was calling him a loser.

"Teach me to love," he whispers.

His heartbreaking request stuns her. Carol's fingers lightly run over his chest while she wracks her brain how to respond to such a plea. "You first need to allow yourself to feel love, to accept kindness. Are you willing to let your guard down?"

Daryl doesn't know what to say. After an awkward moment, Carol adds, "With my help?"

He nods innocently, not the slightest bit aware what a tremendous task it will be to tear down walls that took a lifetime to build. And she, Carol, had no experience in such matters. She was afraid of doing more harm than good. What if she led him to a place he cannot deal with? All she could offer him were the shards of what was left of her own love and trust.

"It will mean pain and upset, just to prepare you beforehand, and I'm no trained professional. I can only give you what I have myself."

He squeezes her hand which she translates into a sign of reassurance. "I will teach you. But, Daryl?"

"Hm?" He sounds scared.

"It might hurt. No, it _will_ hurt. And you cannot be embarrassed of showing your feelings, and they might involve tears. Are you willing to go there?"

He intertwines his fingers in hers, shrugs. "I never cry. Well, not usually," he says embarrassed. "I don't know how I will react. I might run away and hide in the woods for a while. Just be patient then, okay? I never heard the word "love" in my life."

"It's a scary word, but it's about time you hear it: I love you," Carol says.

"I do, too," he croaks. "Shit, this is tough. Like learning a new language."

"That's a good way of looking at it. Say 'Je'taime.'"

"Shuh tam. Why?"

"You just said _I love you_ in French. See how easy that was?"

"Hey, you tricked me. But yeah, shuh tam. I like it. It's like a secret language."

"Did you mean it?"

He nods. "Yeah, I did. I shuh tam you." He kisses her tenderly. "Teach me to make love."

"You know how."

"I know how to have sex."

"How much experience do you have?" Carol asks impishly. Yet, she holds her breath while she waits for his answer.

He grunts. "More than you think. Merle was generous with his bimbos."

"Oh, you had threesomes? Wow."

He blushes. "No, I mean he let me use them after he was done. Let's not go there."

Carol takes his hand and slowly guides it across her chest. Daryl's mood immediately turns somber and he looks eager to comply. His fingers flutter across her breasts, linger on a nipple, and Carol moans with pleasure. He leans down to kiss it, while his hand continues toward her core. He finds what he is looking for and starts rubbing gently but with persistent rhythm, paying close attention to Carol's response. This is how he learns. As a hunter, he is trained to notice the slightest shift in behavior, the subtlest change in breathing, the faintest difference in sound. He builds her up to her climax which her breathing tells him is imminent. He pushes two fingers inside, massaging the swollen mount of her wall, while his thumb stays focused on the bud. Carol raises her hips and rhythmically welcomes his touch. He watches her body and expression intently as she erupts, without slowing or changing his movements until she indicates that she is completely done. Only then does he stop.

Carol looks at him in wonder. "That was… incredible. Oh my goodness, what are you doing to me?"

They fall asleep in each others' arms, feeling safe for the first time in months. Before the morning light enters the prison, Carol wakes Daryl to let him know she's returning to her cell. He kisses her, holding her tight, but releases her quickly before she can pull away.

She tries to put him at ease, smiling. "Not yet. Let's enjoy each other privately for a while. The others will find out soon enough. This is too special and amazing; I need time to wrap my head around it."

He smiles shyly. "I shuh tam you, Carol. See you later," he says, caressing her face.

Carol gets dressed and leaves the cell. Before she rounds the corner to her part of the prison, she sees Merle leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

"Well, well, so it's you," he says, grinning unabashedly.

Carol nods and smiles, pretending to be caught. She steels herself for his insult and vows not to let it get to her. She's had lots of practice on that with Ed. But when she passes Merle, she notices something in his eyes that makes her pause. "What's going on?"

"Carol, I don't know how you feel about my brother… I am just asking, please don't hurt him. He's been through enough."

Carol eats breakfast with the others in the community room when Daryl enters. He sits on the windowsill and looks across the room at her. She looks radiant. He nods, she smiles, both acknowledge each other in a private manner. It's actually cute, as if they were middle schoolers crushing, not mature adults long past such pubescent behavior, but they try not to be too obvious. Folks will know soon enough that they were an item. Carol notices Rick glancing at them occasionally, trying not to let on he knew the two spent the night together.

Merle walks in, clean shaven and flaunting a mischievous smile. He approaches his brother. „How ‚bout you an me go on a little mattress check later, see what we can find? Someone's bound to have left somethin' behind. Do us all some good to cheer up in times like these. Or any other," Merle grinned confidently, not giving a rat's ass what anyone thought.

"Not today," Rick interrupts. "I'm sending Daryl on a run, check out the area. We need to be clear about our surroundings, after what happened yesterday. During the day, I mean," Rick stutters, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he caught Carol in Daryl's cell the night before. "You and Daryl saved my life yesterday, and I appreciate it."

"Sounds good. We can do a little exploring for ya," Merle says.

"Actually, I need you here, so I was thinking of sending Carol out with him. They can both use a little fresh air." Rick's face turns a deep red as he says this, knowing full well how blatant it sounds. "Here," Rick says, looking at Daryl who immediately comes to his side like a dog to his master. "I drew a map of what we know so far." Rick points to the paper in front of him. "See what you can find. The more we know about the area, the better. Take Carol with you. Bring enough water to last a day, a night even. Might be more treacherous out there than we think."

"Hey, wait a minute. Why can't I go with him? I had plans for my brother today," Merle complains.

Daryl shoots him a withering look. "I'm not looking for no stupid drugs. We need to concentrate on survival, not spacing out, with Walkers all over the goddamn place."

Merle stares at his brother in disbelieve. He had never talked back to him. The group had him brainwashed. "Then I do it myself. But whatever I find is mine, so don't come crying to me when you're freaked out after an attack."

The brothers squint at each other, but Daryl holds steady instead of averting his eyes as usual. Whatever was going on, he had changed. Merle didn't like it one bit. That group of idiots had a strong hold on his brother.

"As I mentioned before, I need you here to help with fortifying some areas, in case a horde overruns this place," Rick says calmly. "You want to be part of the group, you have to pitch in."

Merle grumbles but nods.

"Can I go with them?" Carl pipes up, sounding hopeful.

Rick shakes his head. "No, you're staying here with me." He would need to keep an eye on his son and keep him busy. The boy was known to wander off and spy on people. If Rick's plan worked, he did _not_ want the boy to see _that_.

"We'll leave after breakfast," Daryl announces, looking at Carol who gets up to refill her cup. Only then does he notice she is wearing a dress. His eyebrows shoot up in amazement, but he doesn't let on that he finds it strange. Of course, women wore dresses, he just never saw Carol in one.

They pack water, two rations of food, and are ready to go. "We'll scout out the area and let you know what's behind the prison," Daryl says, blushing, knowing very well what Rick is doing.

Before they set off, Merle pulls Daryl aside. "Now listen to me. I'm by no means the type to interfere, but I know one thing: If you treat her right, she'll take care of you."

"What do you know about treating women right?"

"You just need to know the right spots, have 'em moan under your fingertips, and they turn to putty." Merle wiggles his fingers in Daryl's face.

Daryl turns away, disgusted.

Merle shouts after him, "And, of course, bare your soul a bit, give 'em a glimpse of what you're hiding, and they'll be back for more. Trust me, women love to fix broken guys like us. Be your badass self, then let it 'slip' that mommy hated you, and they'll swarm all over you like bees around clover. Works ever' time. Now ole Carol there, she has the hots for you since day one, I don't know why. You treated her like shit, worse than others, but she seems to like it. Her asshole husband sure messed with her, but she kep' defending him. We all saw it."

Daryl is surprised at Merle's insight. "That was pure survival instinct. She didn't mean a word she said. We all know about that. You do and say what you think they wanna hear, and inside, you hate yerself for it. That ain't love, that's bullshittin'."

"Yeah, lil brother, you know how the world runs. And why wouldn't ya? With all the experience you have with wimmen. If it weren't for my hand-me-downs, you'd still be immaculate."

Daryl recoils at Merle's insult, defending himself. "I don't fuck around, because, believe it or not, I still hope for a little more, even after looking for it in all the wrong places. Now, if you don't mind, I have a job to do." He shoots Merle a stern look and turns to leave.

They march into the woods behind the prison. After evading a few Walkers at the gate, the area seems undisturbed, mostly because it is almost impenetrable with underbrush. Instead of cutting it away, they climb over and under the obstructions so the wilderness would be preserved and keep Walkers out. Carol and Daryl walk in silence. He reaches for her hand and Carol smiles at him.

"This is nice. I knew you had it in you."

"What gave it away?"

"How you helped look for Sophia. And when you brought me the flower."

"Can't pull the wool over your eyes, huh?"

"No, I'm a woman. We really have that sixth sense you always hear about."

"That so? Men have it too, you know."

"Prove it."

"You're wearing a dress because you sensed I wanted to be alone with you and you wanted to look pretty."

Carol laughs out loud. "Not quite but almost. I wore a dress because I figured Rick wants us to have privacy and my sixth sense tells me that we're not alone, that either Merle or Carl, or both, will try to sneak up on us so I didn't wear any underwear so we won't be caught naked if they do."

Daryl stares at her openmouthed. "That beats all. That's not a sixth sense, that's clairvoyance!"

"Look at you, throwing all these French words around," Carol says, then yelps when he pulls her to the ground in an embrace. She giggles at his reaction. Tell a man you're not wearing anything underneath a skirt in public and they go nuclear meltdown on you, ready to blow in an instant.

Daryl leans against a tree with Carol in his lap. Their mouths meet in a hungry kiss, while he fumbles with his pants, loosening belt and buttons, freeing his manhood. He grabs Carol underneath the dress, amazed how ready she is. With great longing, he lifts her onto his pole which slips into her like a greased rocket, and in a frenzy pumps himself to rapture. His breath still heaving, he moves her off his lap and turns her around, holding her from behind, nuzzling her neck, and re-enters, this time taking it slow, indulging in every move while caressing her breasts and bud with his callused hands.

Carol inhales the earthy fragrance of the moss on which he beds her and meets his moves with delirious pleasure. Not even as recently as yesterday did she dare imagine the contentment of having her feelings answered by the man she was attracted to and she marvels at what a difference the act itself makes. She gives herself over completely, until the culmination of love and lust catapults her out of her surroundings as she rises to her crescendo and afterwards collapses in his arms.

They lay in stunned silence. Neither one ever experienced such unspeakable delight.

Later, as they move through the underbrush, they expect to find Carl or Merle around every bend. Suddenly Daryl motions Carol to stop. He creeps toward an open area, aiming his crossbow at the movement in a bush. He lets the arrow fly and runs after it. When he returns, he holds a rabbit in his hand. "Dinner."

"We can have a picnic dinner, but I don't want to spend the night out here. I'd rather meet up with you later in your room," Carol says. "Maybe with a bottle of wine?"

"Sure, I'll stop at the corner store and get one," Daryl laughs. "Maybe throw in some candles."

Undisturbed, they cook the rabbit over the little fire Daryl built, and Carol snuggles against his broad chest, watching the flames.

After dinner, they decide to head back to the prison. Rick must be keeping a tight ship. Neither Merle nor Carl was able to get away and sneak up on them.

They arrive at the prison and report what they found out about the area behind the compound. Rick winks at them. "Thanks, guys. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

Daryl grunts and blushes. "Nah, t'was good to get out." Turning to Carol, he says, "We'll hang around later, okay?"

They wash up and Carol takes a bottle of wine she saved back to Daryl's cell. He lit a candle which he got from who knows where and tidied the cot, trying to make it more comfortable with an extra blanket and pillows he found in other cells. Merle stops by and hands Carol a fistful of wildflowers through the bars.

"I tried follerin' y'all, but Rick interfered with my plan. I could've pranked ya somewhat special, ya know? Next time," he said and nodded at her. "Looks like y'two wanna be alone."

Surprised by his brother's unexpected support, Daryl stares after him.

Carol takes in the room. "I didn't peg you as the romantic type," she teases as she sticks the flowers into an empty jelly jar which she places next to the candle.

Daryl blushes. "'s all right, it sets the mood. I've got some civility in me, just not sure where from." He scratches his head. "I thought, maybe we can, you know, talk, like you said. If you're up for it, I mean."

Carol hesitates, knowing what could happen. "You sure you're ready for this? What if you find something you don't want to remember?"

"Then I'll deal with it when I get there." He draws her into his arms, kissing her, then asks her to lay on her belly. He scrunches up her top and starts rubbing her back until she almost purrs under his touch. Carol senses that he wants to begin the conversation. "I saw the scars on your back. You wanna start with that?"

He moves off the bed and sits on the floor, waiting for her to join him. Carol grabs a pillow and plops down across from him. She stretches out her hands and he places his palms against hers, their fingers intertwining. Carol asks him to show her his back. Daryl reluctantly takes off his shirt and turns around. She resists the urge to gasp or trace the scars and they sit in silence. Daryl turns back and looks at her solemnly, then averts his eyes in shame.

"Your father did this?"

He nods.

"You wanna tell me about it? Remember, you don't have to, and you can stop anytime."

Daryl clears his throat, not sure where to begin. "I was mostly scared of them. They hit us for no reason."

"Did you hate them?"

"Yeah, 'ventually. Not always. Strange, isn't it?"

"No, understandable. They were still your parents. What did Merle do when your father beat up on you?"

Daryl lets out a brief laugh. "When he was home, he got between us. When he wasn't, I hid soon as I got away. Merle doesn't know the half of what the old man done to me."

"Did your mother try to stop your father or was she scared of him?"

"She didn't care. She lived in her own world, laying on the couch for days, staring at the wall. She slit her wrists a few times or tried to OD with likker, but we always found her in time. She was always real mad and bitched about the mess we let her make, and we had to clean it up." Daryl lets out a strangled sound that turns into a cry and his breathing alerts Carol that he is approaching a traumatic memory.

"You don't have to go on if it's too hard," she warns. But Daryl continues as if under a spell. Carol watches helplessly as he struggles on.

"I made up the story of how she died, that she fell asleep with her cigarette on and the whole trailer burnt down. Even Merle thinks that's how it went. He was gone for a while, he often was, just like the old man. I never knew where they were, or for how long. My mother was sick. Mentally, I mean." Daryl circles a finger next to his head. "One day I couldn't find her. The car was gone, so I figured she left, just like everyone else. I was 'bout 18 or 19 at the time. But something didn't seem right. Most of her stuff was still there, even her cigarettes. She never left without her pack of smokes, so I went looking for her and I found the car, off some place, hidden. I freaked out when I realized the car was burnt and relieved when I couldn't see her inside. But when I walked around it, part of her dress stuck out of the trunk…" Daryl sits quietly for a long time, staring into the distance.

When he continues, Carol can hear the tears in his voice.

"She poured gas over herself, locked herself inside the trunk, and lit a match. She made sure we couldn't stop her this time." Daryl starts heaving with sobs. "Who would do that? How crazy do you have to be?"

Carol kneels in front of him, not knowing what to say. "Daryl, it's over. There was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault. She wanted it that way. Please, listen to me." She holds him in her arms, shushing him, stroking his head. When she realizes he's not able to calm down and is close to losing it, she gets scared. "Daryl, please. You need to breathe. Oh, my God, you poor baby." Carol gets up and rakes her fingers through her hair. "I don't know what to do." She tries to get him up but he slumps forward instead, his head resting on the floor. "I'll be right back, okay?" She runs down the hall to Merle's cell. Thank God he's there. Carol draws a deep breath, trying to pull herself together before she steps inside. Merle is asleep on his cot and she taps him on the shoulder.

"Merle."

He jumps up, ready to attack. "Oh, jeezus, it's you. You startled me." When he sees the look on her face, he asks, "What's wrong?"

"I need your help. Daryl is having a breakdown. He's hurting bad."

At the mention of his brother, Merle is alert in an instant. "What happened? Where is he?"

Carol beckons him to follow and Merle runs after her.

Daryl lays on the floor, hands clawing his head, his whole body shaking with convulsions. Merle crouches down, wrapping an arm around him. Daryl winces. Merle stares at his naked back and Carol can tell from the expression on his face that it is the first time he sees his brother's scars. A look of shock and disbelieve, which quickly changes to raw hatred, flushes across Merle's face. "If that devil isn't dead already, I'll kill him with my bare hands, I swear. Daryl, I had no idea." He shakes his brother. "Look at me." Merle lifts Daryl's head but he is unable to comprehend what is going on around him, so deeply is he locked in the agony of reliving the trauma of his youth. Merle looks up at Carol.

"What did you do to him? I never seen him like this."

Carol twists her hands in desperation. "We were just talking… he, he asked for it. I warned him I'm not a professional, but he wanted to anyway. Suddenly this happened. He was talking about your mother. How she died." Carol herself breaks down crying. "I didn't know how bad it was."

Merle rises to his feet and closes in on her. "She died in a house fire. It was an accident. That what you mean?"

"No. That's not what happened." Carol whispers and uses her hand to wipe off tears and snot, backing away from him. "She set herself on fire in the trunk of her car. He found her."

Merle, pale to begin with, blanches further and starts shaking. At that moment, Rick walks by and notices the commotion inside the cell.

"You guys all right?" Before they answer, he can see that they're not all right. "What's going on?" he asks concerned and approaches the little group. Carol grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him into a corner. She briefs him on why Daryl is having a breakdown, and that he can't snap out of it. Rick looks serious. "I'll get Hershel," he says and runs out.

The two men return minutes later, Hershel carrying his ancient medicine bag. Rick tells him what is going on as they make their way to the cell. Hershel, aware now what happened to the Dixon brothers' mother, bends over Daryl and says in his calm, reassuring voice, "You're safe now. We're all here. The worst is over. Your mother is at peace. It's all over, okay, son? We love you. We're all here because we care."

Merle stands off to the side, wiping his eyes. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't've left him alone with those sick bastards. Maybe I could've prevented it."

Hershel levels with Merle and locks eyes with him. "Merle, things happen for a reason, even if we don't understand it. Beating yourself up over it is not doing any good. Your brother needs you now, right here. His wounds are deep, and I'm not trained to dig around in his mental state. He needs to talk to a professional but until we find someone, I prescribe exercise in nature which will not be hard around here, and letting him know his feelings are safe with us. No judgment, no pressure, just understanding and patience. He's traumatized beyond imagination." Turning to Carol, Hershel adds, "Give him all the love you can. But don't be surprised if he rejects it at times. If he never experienced it, he might push it back as much as he craves it. Don't give up on him then."

Carol gives Hershel a curt nod. If this is what's needed, she was a pro at it: Loving someone who stubbornly fights against it while silently begging not to give up and loving them anyway. No, not like Ed who was a hopeless asshole, but Carol herself. Always afraid to fall for and trust the wrong person. As long as both were willing to admit their fears and forgive the other when making mistakes, love, buried underneath protective layers, could have a chance. The most important part was to believe it would be worth the struggle.

The men drag Daryl off the floor and heave him onto the cot, making him more comfortable and better accessible while they rally to calm him. Disoriented, Daryl cranes his head and searches for his brother. When their eyes lock, he lifts a trembling arm in Merle's direction in a gesture to draw him closer. Merle understands and bends down, their heads touching. With his hand resting on Daryl's neck, he listens intently.

Daryl is still shaking with sobs and the words come out in spurts. "Mom. She - it's true. What she did. I couldn't talk about. What happened. I didn't let it in. After I found her, I burnt down the trailer and left. Pushed everything from my mind, pretended it didn't happen."

The brothers cry.

"It's not your fault," Merle says. "She was a sick woman. They had no business raising kids. What they dragged us through is a crime. I tried to protect you 's much as I could, but I had to leave, so I wouldn't totally turn out like them two sickos." Merle lifts Daryl's chin so he could look into his eyes for emphasis. "I worried about you since the day you were born, baby brother, and I left, to protect that part in me that still gave a shit. Can you understand that? Not because I didn't care. I left to stay half-way decent, but I was too young to take you away from these bastards."

Even though Merle is having this conversation privately with his brother, their words echo across the prison walls for all to hear.

Tears run down Carol's face while she observes the scene from a corner. Rick sits on his haunches against the wall, head in his hands as they listen to the testimony from hell. Merle's wildflower bouquet with the honey suckle and red clover gives off a heady fragrance that infuses the room and gives off the false impression of serenity.

Hershel, the wise father figure, watches from the end of the cot, letting the brothers talk about what needs to be addressed. His calm presence feels like balm to the group, especially since he was a wonderful listener with great insight and wisdom. Turning to Rick and Carol, Hershel says, "You probably heard of tuning out and creating a different life in an alternate reality. It's sometimes necessary for self-preservation. The demons will still be there, but by using this method, the psyche is able to survive on a different level. Unless past events are recalled, purposely or accidentally, it is possible to suppress traumatic experiences, even develop another persona."

For the next few days, Daryl stays in his cell to rest, but he is never alone. His brother or Carol or Rick, and sometimes Hershel, take turns sitting with him, keeping him company and making sure he eats enough to preserve his strength. Daryl understands how important it is for his healing process to tell Merle the truth about their mother's death instead of bearing the burden alone. It had weighed on his conscience for years. The brothers talk after dinner, working through the pain, and afterward, through the night, Carol's presence and touch soothe Daryl as he fights off nightmares which invade his sleep the moment he closes his eyes.

It takes a million kisses and a million kind words to build an ounce of trust. Carol is patient. There is no rush. Ed ruined the best years of her life and Sophia's death broke her heart, so she, too, needs time to heal before going on. For now, they have each other. Every night, Daryl and Carol take the shards of their past and piece by piece, their mosaic emerges.

Carol's love and understanding are crucial for Daryl's well-being and no matter how much he fights against it at times, she makes it clear she will never give up on him and patiently waits for his tantrums to subside. He is always worn out after an episode and in need of being held and soothed. What had been neglected in childhood can never be made up for later in life, but it can be addressed and temporarily lessened. People, no matter how old, will be marked by a loveless upbringing for the rest of their lives. Carol knows this from her marriage to a man whose mother despised him but who did not have the redemption of a tough yet protective brother, and by the time she, Carol, entered his life hoping to 'fix' him, it was too late.

Daryl's earlier behavior toward her advances is all too familiar to her. Nice, nasty, apologize, push away. An endless cycle until Carol wraps her arms around him during one of his vile tirades and he can feel his resistance break. She tells him straight out that the more he pushes her away, the more he was crying out for love and too afraid to receive it. Finally, he understands how right she is. Until then, all he knew about love was that it hurt, and that it only got abused by the people from whom he had needed it most: his parents.

Carol holds him as he trembles with fear. "You are worthy, Daryl. Your parents were wrong. You deserve love more than anyone else I know. Don't fight it anymore. Nobody means you any harm here."

But there are easier times as well. Carol thinks back to their first time together. "Remember our first night? When you took off your pants?"

"My pants? What about them?" Daryl asks, startled.

"You wore military boxer shorts."

Daryl immediately goes on the defense. "You makin' fun of my underwear?"

_Poor baby, he's so distrustful_, she thinks. "No, I love your underwear. It suits you. I was glad you didn't wear a thong." At the thought of this, Carol breaks out in giggles and places a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"You mean a banana hammock?" Daryl asks, now laughing, too. "Could you imagine me in one of those?" He kisses her on the nose, relaxed now and at ease. "Wanna tell me about your family?"

"You don't want to hear about my childhood." It sounds like a warning.

"Yeah, I do."

"You'll be mad."

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because I had loving parents who doted on me and the whole family adored me. It's nice, of course, but it can be annoying." Carol pokes dimples into her cheeks and mocks. "Gee, isn't life swell. Ugh. I had to get away because I needed a challenge." When she saw the stunned, longing look on Daryl's face, she adds, "Don't worry, Ed ruined everything afterward, so it's a wash." She sighs. "What I hated more than anything was that I had to act the way I did, to keep him calm. Whenever I was nice to him, what I really wanted to do was slam a knife through his chest. God, I hated that man. Thank goodness the Walkers got him." She buries her face in Daryl's chest, weeping. "Sorry, I just miss Sophia, you know."

Daryl caresses Carol's cheek and lets her cry. When she is done, he shows her how far he has come in understanding the difference between having sex and making love, and telling her "Shu tam you." Saying it in a foreign language felt less weird to him. She guides his hands, slows him when he is rushing, or not in tune with her, and soon he lets his touch linger where he senses heightened pleasure. He does the same for her when he feels her searching for his sensitive spots, letting her know when it feels extra good. Both of them are highly sensuous and as they grow to trust each other, their inhibitions cease.

The group notices a difference in Daryl and Carol. Even Merle lightens up, relieved not having to bear Daryl's tormented past and his own guilt by himself. For the brothers to trust someone takes a lot. Not being given up on, just quietly encouraged to participate as they observe good people interact, is a turning point for the two. Merle is subconsciously grateful to be included in such a life, even though he still bitches and complains when things run too smooth for his liking, because many broken people thrive on drama. Such is the power of habit.

New people arrive at the prison. They have a toddler with them, a little boy. One day, as he runs toward his mother, he trips over his clumsy legs. He sits on the floor, crying, but before anyone can pick him up and comfort him, Helen, one of the newcomers, walks past him and pulls him to his feet without breaking her stride. The toddler stops crying and continues on his way.

It is a magical moment. Everyone can feel it, but most of all Merle. When Daryl and the others look at him, they see it in his expression: he is love-struck. Luckily for him, Helen is smitten, too. The change in Merle over time is mindboggling. He doesn't turn into a teddy bear of course, he will always be a rough-hewn redneck, but by the time he knows what hits him, he is well on his way to changing from jackass to badass with a soft side. The difference being that a jackass is just a plain asshole with no hope for redemption, whereas a badass possesses at least one endearing trait amidst jerk behavior, such as vulnerability, kindness toward animals, or in Merle's and Daryl's case, a secret longing for acceptance and love. Their mother, not to mention father, left that well bone dry. Yet, a speck of goodness in each of the brothers has been there all along, waiting to be brought up to the light and nurtured. The right people, fittingly for the rugged Dixon brothers to be encountered during an apocalypse, uncovered these traits and drew them out, until the brothers felt it themselves. Helen, who is of color, brings out a side of Merle which nobody saw before, least of all him. All Merle knows is that he doesn't feel angry all the time anymore.

On a particularly glorious, sunny day, Carol and Daryl are out for a hike. Exercise in nature, Hershel's orders. Carol is wearing her dress. Daryl, fully aware of the meaning, takes her to a secluded place in a clearing and they make love as birds chirp around them and a deer watches from a distance. If it weren't for the apocalypse, life would be pretty good now. Still, just having someone to cherish and trust, to hold and share life with, makes even that bearable.

After a time of resting and reflection under the trees, Daryl sits up and says in an unwavering voice, "I love you."

This time in English.

The End

A word from the author: If you enjoyed this story, please check out "Next Time It Rains" by U S Burke on Kindle and Amazon in which Daryl is portrayed by Mort in a delicious bully romance in which he again is the vulnerable tough guy at the mercy of his brother!

Daryl/Norman also plays super vulnerable badass fireman Mort Maddox in my paranormal "You only live once – do you?" series by Uta Burke

A deep-seated obsession with boy emotion. That's where I get my stories from.


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